


Knit Hats and Progress

by butterflybaby91



Series: It's History to Me [7]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Cold, M/M, Starting relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflybaby91/pseuds/butterflybaby91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is not sure what this is, but he plans to find out tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knit Hats and Progress

Joly was forever bugging Courfeyrac about the fact that he ran around half the time with wet hair. The whole group was together, hanging out in the offices of the museum. Only Enjolras was working—bent over his desk and tuning them out as he scribbled furiously over some application or other. Everyone else was goofing off and blooming off steam after a hard week. Courfeyrac had just come from swim practice, so he was dressed unusually casual, wearing only a baggy pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. His thick curly hair was dripping down his back as he had not even bothered to dry off before changing after practice, much less taken the time to sop the water out of his sponge of a head.

He had been much too anxious to see his friends, and especially Jehan. He looked at the little poet with the long blond hair who was perched on the edge of the chair next to him, sitting so close to him that their thighs were touching even though they were on different chairs. He smiled at his smaller friend and reached down to grab his hand.

Jehan and Courfeyrac had been inseparable over the past couple weeks. Every night was spent either in one of their apartments, the library, or hanging out with all their friends. They had watched too many movies and stupid televisions shows to count and Courfeyrac was sure neither of them had remembered any of them. He knew the only thing he remembered out of most of those nights was snuggling up next to Jehan on the couch or quietly in a corner like they were now and just being with him. The poet had captivated him from the moment they had met at the end of their freshman year. They had been introduced through Marius and Grantaire who had become friends and were Courf and Jehan’s roommates, respectively. Those two had met through Enjolras somehow and one night they had all ended up together at dinner. Courfeyrac remembered how he had sat across from Jehan and practically stared at him the whole night. Jehan had had on some ridiculous combination of bright purple skinny jeans with a bright green and orange polka dot sweater along with yellow high-tops. His long hair had been braided and adorned with flowers and he had sat there blushing the entire night under Courfeyrac’s scrutiny. Courfeyrac was usually a sharp dresser himself, but as he looked at the man across from him he thought that his ensemble was perfect.

They had become fast friends after that night, but it was not until recently, now halfway through their sophomore year, that they had somehow progressed past friendship without actually forging a relationship. They had not talked about anything. But they would hold hands, snuggle, and even kiss occasionally. Courfeyrac was pretty sure Jehan liked him, but for some reason they had never talked about it and that did not feel right. Courfeyrac felt that Jehan was too special for just this casual flirtatious thing—even though that’s how Courfeyrac would usually go about beginning a relationship, if he bothered to be in a relationship at all.

But he wanted a relationship with Jehan. He wanted consistency and normalcy and he wanted to do everything right with him. Courfeyrac was planning on talking to him about it tonight—that was why he had rushed here—but now Joly was practically in his face telling him all about how he was going to get pneumonia and die if he kept walking about with wet hair after swim practice.

At first he had laughed at his hypochondriac friend, but now he just wanted him to go away so he could have Jehan to himself. Reaching into his bag, Courfeyrac pulled out a blue knit beanie and yanked it down over his still drying hair, “Fine, are you happy?” he interrupted Joly, pointing to his head indicating that he was now forever protected from pneumonia.

Joly huffed, “Your hair is still dripping, but that will help,” he iterated before giving up the fight and walking away to pout next to Bossuet about how all of their friends were going to die from unspeakable illnesses.

Courfeyrac turned to Jehan who had laid his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder and was lazily tracing patterns on his arm, “Wanna get out of here?” he muttered under his breath. Jehan lifted his head and nodded at Courfeyrac looking at him wide-eyed with excitement, “Come on then,” Courfeyrac pleaded, pulling his friend after him as they sneaked out the back door of the office.

They meander their way down the street, still hand in hand, for a while. Courfeyrac was working up the nerve to try and tell Jehan what he had been feeling and he could not understand why he found this so hard. Usually he was great at feelings and expressing himself, but with Jehan, he just wanted to say all the right things and he could not figure out exactly what they were.

It was Jehan, who stopped, after they had walked probably five blocks in the opposite direction of their flats, and looked up at him and asked, “What is this?”

Courfeyrac was slightly startled, but he wanted to make sure he was not misinterpreting so he just replied with a sly, “What do you mean? We’re taking a walk…,” letting his voice trail off into a puff of air hanging there in the cold night air as he realized how stupid that sounded.

Jehan was shaking his head before Courfeyrac could even finish speaking. He raised their still joined hands and shook them back and forth lightly between the two boys, “No, this—us—what is that?” he iterated more forcefully.

“Oh,” Courfeyrac breathed, still not sure what to say as he spluttered onward, “Well, um, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about tonight,” he paused and went to run a nervous hand through his hair but was stopped by the blasted hat Joly had made him wear, “You see—I really like you—like a lot and,” but before he could finish what he was saying, Jehan had pressed himself up against Courfeyrac and was kissing him with much more intensity than their previously shared drunken pecks had contained.

Courfeyrac responded, instantly, pouring all the emotion he so wanted to express in words, but was struggling to, into that kiss. He ghosted his hands over the smaller man’s arms and back before settling them at his waist, fisting into his thick sweater and clenching Jehan to him. Jehan had dislodged Courfeyrac’s hat and was gripping his now freezing curls. When they broke apart, Jehan did not move away but leaned up so that his lips were right underneath Courfeyrac’s ear, as he whispered, “I really like you too Courf.”

Courfeyrac grinned at him and he thought somehow, even though he had not been able to say half of what he wanted to, it was still a perfect moment, as he looked at the beautiful man smiling up at him and leaning in for another kiss. 


End file.
